


I'd Rather Waste My Time With You

by kitana



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-01
Updated: 2009-12-01
Packaged: 2017-12-29 19:13:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1009030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitana/pseuds/kitana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bits of schmoopiness. Set during Season 3. Sam just wants to stop, take a breather, and enjoy his brother for the time they have left.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'd Rather Waste My Time With You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [stellamira](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stellamira/gifts).



> I don't necessarily care for using real places© in my fic, but the amusement park Sam and Dean go to is based off of the real [Kings Island](http://www.visitkingsisland.com/) in Ohio.
> 
> I really feel like this is more a gen piece than a slash piece, but since there's still a hint of a relationship between Sam and Dean here, I'll mark it M/M.

With barely three months left until he is due to be dragged to hell, Dean is looking increasingly worse for wear by the day. Sam can see it, how Dean is trying to hold up and be strong just for him, and it makes him want to take the burden from Dean more than ever. They've been hunting non-stop for a month straight and Dean hasn't even bothered touching him in just as much time. Sam just wants to stop, take a breather, and enjoy his brother for the time they have left.  
   
Dean drives them straight through Pennsylvania and into Ohio before he decides it's time to rest. After they finally pull into a motel and pay the clerk for a room, Dean tosses his duffel onto the bed closest to the door and says, “Be back in a bit, Sammy. Look up our next job, would ya?”  
   
“Sure thing,” Sam says, and he starts fishing his laptop out of its bag, pushing a few balls of socks to the bottom in the process. He sets it up on the tiny table near his bed.  
   
Dean flashes him a brief, tired smile, and heads out of the door. It's then that, when Sam boots up the computer, he knows he's got to do something about Dean. Sam can't simply sit by and let Dean wear himself into the floor. That's just not the way the world works for them. More than anything, he's not going to let the world work that way.  
   
Sam finally gets connected to the 'net, after an uphill battle with the connection at first not staying up long enough to agree to the motel's terms of service, and instead of pulling up national news, he opens up a search for Ohio attractions.  
   
There are all kinds of things in Ohio to do, Sam finds as he clicks through the links his search brings up. There's the zoo, which would be nice if Dean were five years old and easily entertained; various museums that Sam wouldn't mind seeing, but knows that Dean wouldn't be up for; and other attractions that are more like money traps in disguise.  
   
Finally, Sam stumbles upon something that looks promising – a theme park, boasting a blindingly fast new rollercoaster with an initial drop at a ridiculously acute angle. A grin spreads across Sam's face as he reads over the information on the website; the theme park tickets are cheap, it’s close by, and has concession stands with half of Dean's favourite foods to boot. It's perfect.  
   
Sam has it all figured out by the time Dean comes back to the motel a few hours later; he even has the directions written out on a scrap of paper for handy access.  
   
“Find anything good?” Dean says on his way in, dropping a bag of greasy food down in front of Sam before flopping on his bed and ripping open his own bag.  
   
Sam roots around in the bag, which makes his fingers oily before he even gets his burger open. “Not yet,” he replies, and then shoots a look over at Dean. “It's good though, we could use a couple of days' break.”  
   
Dean sighs wearily around a mouthful of fries. He takes a moment to swallow, then says, “Seriously, Sam? Are we having this conversation again? We're fine,  _I'm_  fine. All this ass kicking feels good.”  
   
“Dean,” Sam says levelly. He uses his 'shut up and pay attention' voice, which no one, not even Dean, is fully immune to. “Three months, it's all you've got left. Can we please do something that doesn't involve me having to comb globs of ectoplasm out of my hair the next day?”  
   
Dean cracks a grin at that. “That's why you should've cut your hair ages ago.”  
   
Okay, so Sam left himself wide open for that one. “Still,” he says, trying to keep away the twitch of a smile and the amusement out of his voice. It's just so good to see Dean genuinely smile for a change. “Just go with me on this one, okay?”  
   
Dean rolls his eyes and crumples up his empty burger wrapper. “Alright, fine, we'll hang around here for a few days. Couldn't hurt to hit up some of the local spots and see who's easy pickings, anyway. Never can have too much cash.”  
   
“I've got an even better idea,” Sam says, taking a bite out of his own burger.

Dean just gives him a funny look, like Sam's suddenly revealed that he's really Bigfoot in disguise, but ultimately lets Sam's statement hang.  
   
The next morning, though he originally wanted to get an early start, Sam lets Dean sleep in until ten in the morning. Sam ushers Dean out of the motel and into the Impala with a cryptic “trust me, you'll like it,” and though he keeps throwing curious glances in Sam's direction from the passenger seat, Dean doesn't complain for the half-hour it takes to get to the amusement park.  
   
“Adventure Island?” Dean says, incredulous, when Sam pulls into the parking lot after paying the outrageously priced parking toll. No wonder the admission is so cheap. He's getting ready to say something else, something along the lines of Sam forgetting their ages, but then Dean spies the largest rollercoaster, the one that's a couple of hundred feet in the air, and instead says, “We are  _so_  riding that.”  
   
Sam's thankful today is a Tuesday – it's early enough in the week that the admittance lines into the park are relatively short, and the lines to the rides themselves aren't overflowing. Sam grabs one of the park maps on the way in, following Dean as he makes a beeline for the ride he saw upon entering the park, the _Sidewinder_. The closer Sam gets to it, though, the more unwilling he is to ride it.  
   
Not that Sam is afraid of heights by any measure, but he figures that if he has to die, it doesn’t have to be from a two hundred-something foot drop. He’s seen _Final Destination_ , thank you very much. Dean sees the trepidation written all over Sam’s face before he can cover it up with bravado, though.  
   
“Not gonna wuss out on me are you, Sammy?” Dean says with a smirk, inching closer to the entrance of the ride. “You’re the one who decided we should come here, you can’t go all scaredy-cat on me now.”  
   
“Whatever, Dean,” Sam responds. He still murmurs a quick prayer when he climbs into the seat next to Dean and the lap bar clicks down, because he knows it’s all downhill from here.  
   
When he and Dean amble off of the ride three and a half minutes later, Dean’s hair is nearly standing on end and Sam has a tremor in his leg that won’t go away.  
   
“Fuck, Sam, you scream like a  _girl_ ,” Dean laughs, bumping Sam’s shoulder as they go towards the next nearest ride.  
   
“Dude, no, don’t even,” Sam replies, bumping Dean back. “That was all you. You should’ve seen your face on the drop.”  
   
Sam knows that even if Dean did scream – which he totally did – he’ll never admit to it, so calling Dean out on it is just an exercise in denial. The next rides they get on aren't as high as the Sidewinder, but they're no less thrilling. Dean goads Sam into getting one a ride that takes them up into the air and spins them around so fast, Sam thinks his shoes would've gone flying if he didn't have them laced up tight.

After getting halfway through the ride list on the park map, Dean decides it's a perfect time to eat and replenish his adrenaline. The closest thing to the last ride they stepped off of is a place that sells pizza and funnel cake in the same breath. Sam gets a particularly nasty look when he claims a picnic table before a guy and his girlfriend can, but he just shrugs and smiles somewhat apologetically at them.

Sam can't help but decide that this was his best idea to date. Dean's been brighter today than he has in months, and Sam finally feels like they've captured something close to normal. It feels good enough that Sam doesn't even complain when Dean comes back with a large pizza and two funnel cakes and “surreptitiously” slides the lopsided one in front of Sam.

“Not a bad place, huh, Dean?” Sam says offhandedly, tearing off a piece of the funnel cake to stuff into his mouth.

Dean makes an assenting noise around his mouthful of pizza, and that's all the answer Sam gets, but it's enough for him.

Later, when the sun is setting and Dean and Sam have put every ride, save for the kiddy rides, under their belt, they make their way back to the Impala to head back to the motel. Sam gives the Impala's keys back to Dean and slides into the passenger side seat, thunking his head against the window and yawning. All in all, he has to say the day has been a success – which is something that, for Sam, happens few and far in between.

The Impala rumbles to life beneath them and they maneuver out of the parking lot and back onto the freeway. They ride in an easy, peaceful silence; Sam has almost drifted off completely when Dean finally speaks, tugging him back into consciousness.

“Huh?” Sam murmurs, punctuating his statement with a yawn.

Dean's eyes flicker over to Sam and a slight smile tugs at the corner of his lips. “Thanks,” he repeats, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel.

Sam is tempted to ask 'what for?' but he lets Dean off the hook instead and replies, “Always.”

And he's never meant that more in his life.


End file.
